


You Ready? I'm Ready

by matchst_ck



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Cussing, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, Drunk Mickey, F/M, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich Fluff, Lots of it, Love, M/M, Mend my broken heart, Not Canon Compliant, POV Mickey, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchst_ck/pseuds/matchst_ck
Summary: "As the priest starts to drone on about vows and love and god and other things that start sending Mickey off into a light sleep he feels a warm hand slip into his own. He turns to find Ian smiling at him like they’re the only two people there.Mickey’s fingers tighten their hold."---In which there is a wedding, or two.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm compartmentalising. I'm still picking pieces of my heart up off the floor so I'm not even going to go there. In lieu of that, here is some fluff. I mean it, this is nothing but pure, disgusting fluff (I needed it). Please book an appointment with your primary dental physician after reading. 
> 
> I really do hope you enjoy though :)

\----

Iggy, of all people, is getting married.

That’s not even the shocking part. Iggy has managed to find himself a girl from the Northside. No, not a girl, a woman. A doctor, even. And Iggy has somehow managed to convince her to marry him.

Mickey wonders if she’s a shrink ‘cause she damn well needs one if she thinks Iggy’s a solid choice.

“Hey,” Ian’s fist collides not so gently with Mickey’s shoulder blade. He realises he must have said that last part out loud. “That’s your brother you’re talking about.”

“Ex-fucking-actly.” Mickey responds while attempting to knot his tie for the third time in a row. “Seriously, has anyone had a serious sit down chat with this chick? Asked her if she knows what she’s getting into? Iggy? Really? This is the guy that still sticks metal fucking cutlery in the toaster to get his fucking poptarts out.”

“Oh, as opposed to someone I know who shakes the toaster upside down, cussing at it until the poptart and every crumb in there falls out?” Ian response is soft and Mickey’s cheeks pink, he can feel the heat.

“Works every time Gallagher.” Mickey’s hands drop to his thighs as Ian comes in to take over the tie tying before he chokes himself.

Ian knots it swiftly, hands sliding up Mickey’s shoulders slowly before they come to rest cupping the nape of his neck. “We’re going to go and celebrate your brother’s happiness and wish him well in married life. Iggy’s found someone that loves him for who he is, who are we to judge?” He says magnanimously – Mickey thinks it’s more pretentious but he keeps this to himself - but he can see the grin that Ian’s trying hard not to form. “More importantly, I was reliably informed there was a free bar at the reception so we definitely have to go.”

“You could have just opened with that, you know.” Mickey grins, leaning up to press full lips to the corner of Ian’s mouth. “C’mon Casanova, wouldn’t want to miss this spectacle.”

***

The Church in Northside is fucking huge and Mickey feels more than out of place standing there surrounded by people he doesn’t know. Eighty percent of the guests are the bride’s, it’s not like Iggy’s got many close friends and the only family that are there are Mickey, Mandy, Uncle Ronnie and Aunt Rande, none of whom are overly verbose. Ian is family too, but he’s not a Milkovich he’s a Gallagher and those fuckers can charm snakes out of a basket. Ian looks so at ease mingling with people he doesn’t even know and just as Mickey’s suit starts to feel too hot and too tight and what the fuck is he doing here with these stuck up assholes, Ian turns to locks eyes with him and he feels calm wash over him. He feels like he can breathe easier.

It’s fine. Ian’s got him.

They’re sat nearest the aisle, on what Mickey has dutifully been informed is traditionally the groom’s side. Having declined a bridesmaid’s position for reasons Mickey can absolutely understand - _“Why the fuck would I want to stand up in front of shit loads of people I don’t know in a hideous dress I never wanted to wear?”_ \- Mandy has taken the spot on the other side of Ian, talking his ear off and only deigns to fall silent when the bridal march starts to play.

As the bride starts to walk down the aisle, Mickey watches as his brother’s smile grows and he marvels at what a difference twenty minutes can make. Iggy had caught up with him before the ceremony, back in the priest’s chambers, dressed to the nines in a tux that was amazingly paid for rather than stolen but panicking all the same.

_“Getting fucking married Mick, what the hell am I doing? Look at this fucking place, she’s a doctor, who am I, how the hell did I get here? How am I meant to---”_

_“IGGY!” Mickey had shouted, wide eyed at his brother’s ramblings. Iggy blinked at him. “Do you love her?”_

_Iggy nodded._

_“Do you wanna marry her, big ass Church or not?”_

_Iggy nodded._

_“Then stop panicking, fucking breathe and get your ass out there. You’re a Milkovich man, you can do this.”_

_Iggy’s panic deflated almost instantly and he grinned. “Thanks Mick, I needed that.”_

_“No problem,” Mickey smiled. He’d done something right today. Turning to walk back into the Church, he held the door open for his older brother, clipping the back of his head as he passed. “But fuck you for making me have this conversation.”_

As the priest starts to drone on about vows and love and god and other things that start sending Mickey off into a light sleep he feels a warm hand slip into his own. He turns to find Ian smiling at him like they’re the only two people there.

Mickey’s fingers tighten their hold.

***

“You’re really taking advantage of this free bar, aren’t you Mickey?” Mandy grins as she motions to the bartender for another vodka martini.

“Fuckin’ right I am.” Mickey grins sloppily as he eyes the empty glasses littering the bar in front of him. He lifted his fourth --- no fifth? --- glass of whiskey to his lips. “These dicks’ll soon figure out it’s a bad idea to have an open bar if you’re inviting us around.” He hiccups. Maybe he has had a few too many.

“It’s been nice though, don’t you think?” Mandy swirls the olive around the clear liquid. “The wedding. You think you’d want a big Church wedding?” 

“The fuck Mandy?” He turns to her, squinting. “What am I, a girl?”

“Fucking humour me Mick, I’m just asking.” She snorts into her glass.

Mickey sits back, necking the rest of the whiskey before slamming it back down. “Ey! Another one.” And then proceeds to give the bartender the most arched eyebrow he can manage in his inebriated state. Picking up the fresh drink, he turns on his stool to face Mandy better.

“Hell no. I wouldn’t want a big wedding or a Church wedding. Don’t need no priest telling me what god thinks about me. Besides, didn’t think they did gay weddings anyway.”

“Think some do.” Mandy muses before she leans in conspiratorially, tugging on Mickey’s now loose tie. “Well c’mon then, where would you have it? Hypothetically of course.”

Mickey feigns taking a second to mull it over but he knows. He’d never admit it out loud but this isn’t the first time he’s thought about it. “The beach. I’d have it on the beach but there’d only be family there. Don’t want no big wedding, don’t need fuckers I couldn’t give a shit about watching me say my---” he breaks off to belch “---vows. On the beach, in the sun.” He nods, agreeing with himself. “Have you seen Ian’s hair in the sun? Shines, man. I’d wanna see that.”

Mandy smiles softly at him and Mickey doesn’t have the energy to tell her to stop looking at him so sappily. 

“Yeah? Sounds nice Mick. You wear a suit on the beach?” She leans an elbow on the bar, head propped up as she listens intently.

“Nah, too warm. Be wearing like, shorts or something. Comfy, man. Ian thinks I got great legs.” He grins, more whiskey sliding too easily down his throat. He blinks in thought. “Bare foot. Wanna feel the sand in my toes.”

“This is all sounding very romantic Mick.” Mandy sighs, chuckling.

“Fuck you, this--- s’all just hypo---” he flaps a hand around in the air trying to think. “Hypo whatsit.”

“Hypothetical?” Ian sidles in, arm sliding around Mickey’s waist which he is fairly certain is now the only thing keeping him upright on the stool. “What’s hypothetical?”

Mickey glares at Mandy like she is about to give away the subject of the conversation but she simply smiles, standing as she presses a kiss to Ian’s cheek. “Nothing really, just talking. I’m going to go see if I can find one of the brides third cousins twice removed or some shit to dance with. You---” She looks at Ian here as Mickey has, she is fairly certain, fallen asleep on his shoulder “---might want to get him home.”

Ian grins as she walks away, turning to jostle Mickey gently. “C’mon tough guy, let’s get you home.

***

“S’fucking hot man.” Mickey kicks the apartment door shut as he heads in, peeling his shirt off. “Thank fuck that shift’s over.” He meanders through the apartment looking for that beacon of red hair. “Ay, it was weird though. Told Ellison I’d see him tomorrow and he said ‘s’what you think’.” He finds Ian in the bedroom, bent over a duffle bag. “No idea what he mea---Ian? What’re you doing?”

Ian flips around, t-shirt in hand. “Mick! OK, see that’s the thing.” He turns, slipping the garment into the duffle bag before zipping it shut. “I may have organised a long weekend trip.” He grins, all teeth.

“Long weekend trip? To fucking where? And why don’t I know about it?” Mickey grumbles. Not that a long weekend away with a particularly delicious piece of gingerbread doesn’t sound appealing. 

“Surprise!” Ian outstretches his arms. He wanders up and grips Mickey gently by the shoulders. “We’ve never been on vacation before, or out of Chicago thinking about it, and I really wanted it to be a surprise so I’m not going to tell you _where_ we’re going but you don’t have to worry, I’ve packed for both of us, organised time off work for you as you’ve noticed and I’ve hired a car for the weekend. You don’t have to lift a finger and---”

Mickey raises a hand, mercifully cutting off the rambling. “Alright already, calm down. Secret vacation with my rambling idiot of a guy? I’m down for that.” He grins as Ian leans in, lips connecting. 

“Oh really?” Ian laughs, pulling him backwards towards the bed. “What else you going down for?”

“Dork.” Mickey smiles, landing softly as his hands began to sneak inside Ian’s shirt.

***

Mickey looks down as he watches his battered sneakers sink into the golden sand, the light breeze whipping his cowlick over his forehead to the point where he attempts, yet again, to push it back with his fingers. He looks out over the water, breathing the sea air in deeply. 

They’d arrived late the previous afternoon and when he’d turned from side to side, eyeing the beach and the ramshackle beach house they’d be staying in, he’d turned to Ian and said _‘Michigan?’_ Ian’s face had burned as bright as his hair, rambling about how _well, they didn’t have a great deal of spare cash, and he got a good deal on the beach house and the weather in July was pretty great and I’m sorry it isn’t better_ and Mickey had felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

 _“S’not what I meant Ian, I’m just surprised is all. This is great. Really. Thank you.”_ And he’d kissed him and dragged them both out of the car and taken the duffle bag into the beach house. It really was nice on the inside and the owners that had rented it out to them had been nice enough to leave enough food to cover them for the couple of days they’d be staying.

He doesn’t hear Ian, quiet on the sand, but he feels his hand slip into his own. His eyes open to find Ian smiling down at him. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Smiling, Ian tugs him down to sit in the sand. The grains tickle his calves, shorts proving a fantastic idea. They both lean back on their elbows, enjoying the quiet.

“S’nice.” Mickey breathes.

“Glad to hear it.” Ian chuckles. They are quiet for a minute before the redhead speaks again. “Hey, I’ve been thinking. How d’you think married life’s treating Iggy?”

Mickey’s eyebrows scrunch. “The fuck? No idea. Last I heard they were going on honeymoon to Tahiti or some-fucking-where.”

“Ahh, lucky for some.” Ian muses.

“Mmm.” Mickey shuffles, a touch uncomfortable, before he continues. “But… don’t really think the destination matters. Who you’re going with that counts. And don’t make that any mushier than it already is.”

“Won’t Mick, promise.” But he still feels Ian’s fingers drift up and down his forearm. “You think Iggy’s happy? You know what they say about married couples, besides, isn’t it just a piece of paper at the end of the day?”

Mickey turns at that, dropping onto his side, elbow digging into the sand. “Don’t think so. Not anymore at least. It’s a--- what is it, declaration. That you’re willing to spend the rest of your life with someone. Legally.” He laughs softly. “Think it might be the first legal thing Iggy’s ever done actually.”

He looks out at the water again, imagining drifting away. Just like this, with Ian by his side. He turns back.

“Makes sense I think. You love someone so much you want to tie yourself to them for the rest of your life.” He shrugs his free shoulder. “It’s sweet, people caring about each other enough to do that.”

Mickey watches as Ian blinks at him, smile slowly forming. He keeps still, Ian leaning in to press lips to his, once, twice. “You’re a romantic Mick. I’m hoping that’s going to work in my favour.”

Ian brushes his lips against his once more before he sits up, knees in the sand. Kicking one foot up, he kneels there. _On bended fucking knee._ Mickey swallows convulsively.

“You gonna stand up for me Mick?” Ian blinks rapidly, nerves showing.

“Fuck off.” He breathes. This was not happening. 

Ian digs into his pocket, fist coming out closed tightly. “Seriously Mick, don’t know how long I can keep this up.”

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._ Mickey finds himself standing on shaking legs, Ian’s stupidly bright hair beneath him as his left hand is grabbed by long, sweaty fingers. What. The. Fuck. “Ian…” Shaky, raspy. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.” Ian whispers before swallowing. “Mickey. I love you. I really fucking do and- shit. You gonna marry me Mickey?” His fist opens and Mickey is amazed to find a simple, plain, silver wedding band sat on one of those pale, freckly hands he loves so much. 

Perfect.

“Holy shit.” He swallows. “You’re a fucking dick.” He finds himself laughing, dropping down into the sand and taking Ian’s face into his hands. “Course I will.” He kisses him, tongue brushing the back of his teeth. “Love you.” He whispers against pink lips.

“S’good.” Ian grins. Shaking hands take the ring, slip it onto Mickey’s ring finger. It turns with ease as Mickey watches Ian brush his fingers against it. Perfect fit. 

“Can’t believe this is happening man. You took me on vacation to-” he swallows “propose?” 

At this Ian’s eyebrows furrow a little and he tilts his head. “Well, yeaaah. But… there’s something else too.” He takes Mickey’s hands in his own, tugging him to stand. He begins walking backwards, biting his lip. “Don’t be mad.”

“Fuck would I be mad for?” Mickey laughs. “We just got - _Jesus_ \- engaged!”

“Yeah, about that.” At this Ian drops one of his hands, stepping to the side as they continue walking along the beach. It isn’t until Mickey stops staring wide eyed at the side of Ian’s head and looks forward that he realises they are walking towards a group of people. One of them is waving like a mad woma-

“Wait, what the--- is that… is that Mandy?”

He feels Ian squeeze his fingers, hears his sharp intake of breath as they get closer. It is Mandy. And Iggy and his wife. And the whole fucking Gallagher clan. Holy hell. A wedding. This is a wedding. _Their. Fucking. Wedding._

“Now?! We’re getting married now?!” Mickey stops abruptly, pulling Ian to a halt. His, well fiancée he figures, turns to him with his hands out now, placating. They are far enough away they can’t be heard.

“Only if you want to Mick. Seriously. I just… well, this was really what I was planning when I sorted out the vacation. I figured - no - I hoped that you’d say yes when I asked you to marry me and well…”

At this, Ian breaks off his non-explanation of just exactly what the hell is going on and kicks off his sandals. He taps a bare toe against Mickey’s own scuffed sneakers. It takes Mickey a second before he registers the request, hands drifting to Ian’s hips to hold himself steady as he kicks his own shoes off. He looks back up at Ian who is beaming at him. 

“Beach, sun, shorts. Sun in my hair.” His hand comes up, rounding a halo over his head as he grins. He kicks warm sand onto Mickey’s bare feet.

Mickey can’t help but laugh. “Bare foot so I can feel the sand in my toes.” He turns his head to stare at his sister who is clearly smiling at him. “Fucking Mandy.” More affectionate than anything. He turns back to Ian who is waiting, watching. He takes a second, a deep breath. He’s ready. “What are we waiting for Romeo? Let’s do this.” He slips his hand into Ian’s, fingers twining. Ian grins, dropping down to kiss him deeply. 

“Err, excuse me!” Debbie shouts. “Don’t think we’re quite at that part of the ceremony. Let’s not jump the gun.”

The couple laughs as they head over to their family. Mickey spots the candles that have been partially buried in the sand, Mandy in an off white maxi dress, the Gallagher’s in casual beach outfits. If he could envision his wedding (and he had, not that he would ever admit it to anyone but Ian again) this would be it. 

“Hey Mickey. Brother.” Lip steps forward and attempts to drop his arm around Mickey’s neck amiably. 

“Don’t fucking think so, Philip. And if you call me brother again I’ll knock the teeth out of your head.” He bats the arm away. 

“Is that any way to talk to your newly ordained officiant?” Lip smirks.

Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah, can get that shit done on the internet. I’m available for any and all future weddings, births, bat mitzvahs. Just let me know.” Lip grins. Mickey shakes his head.

Ian steps forward, side stepping Liam’s sandcastle as he comes to stand in front of Mickey. He takes both his hands, tight and sure. “You ready for this?”

Mickey looks around. Everyone is looking at them, smiling. The sun is shining off Ian’s hair. Mickey’s hands are being held and he can feel it all the way to his heart. 

He smiles. Yeah, he’s ready. 

\----

**Author's Note:**

> Please envision a beautiful beach wedding and subsequent honeymoon of sex. Lots of sex. And the occasional poptart. [tumblr :)](https://matchst-ck.tumblr.com/)


End file.
